Welcome to my corner of this wonderful community where I share my poetry, short stories, and occasional photos. My husband and I have been married for almost thirty-five years, and we have two adult children. Our furry family member is Copper, an 80-lb chocolate lab mix, and he just turned 13 years old.
I have published two collections of poetry: New Day, New Dreams (2013) and Finding a Balance (2015). My memoir, More than Coffee, was published in 2021, and my recent publication is a poetry collection titled Ever So Gently released in July.
I have finished my first children’s book and am working with my illustrator with plans to publish in 2024.
When you visit, I hope you find something to take with you, but that you also find something enticing enough to keep bringing you back. I truly appreciate your visit.
Cheers,
Lauren ❤️
I’m thrilled to share that my poem “As This Moment Journeys Into the Next” is live on Gobblers and Chewers! Thanks so much to Manuela Timofte and her staff for this opportunity. I am very grateful!
As This Moment Journeys Into the Next
I realized this moment would come I knew the time would arrive, those hands on the clock they’re always on the move – when I had dreamed of so much more for this special minute, I have no poem…
To read the rest of the poem, click here, and thank you for your support! Also, please consider subscribing to Gobblers to enjoy poetry from a whole host of talented writers!
Hubby and I tried out a new coffee place Saturday morning and it was very cool (and delicious)!
I splurged on a blackberry peach scuffin and chai latte, and hubby had good ‘ol coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Yum!
After we finished eating, we enjoyed our drinks while walking around the charming old downtown. We both bought a new book to add to our towering TBRs (how could we pass up the bookstore?), and when I saw this mural, I thought of my dear friend, Resa, who goes on adventures, seeking amazing and emotive murals. This one isn’t huge, but the colors, joy, and positivity caught my eye:
I couldn’t see the name of the artist…Too bad the shadow overshadowed this one! Not the best photo, but a new bloom on our patio.
I’m ending this beginning-of-the-week post with a poem that was inspired by all the rain we were getting. The sun will be in the spotlight this week though…
Your Best Interest
Steel gray clouds battle it out with the golden orb, moving slowly to the naked eye, desiring to cleanse – Mother Earth is on their side.
But the golden orb wishes to slide into place to shine for spirits to rise.
Tragedy and bloodshed fill screens causing our souls to weep again.
Which one will prevail? Which will you applaud for? Cleansing or joy? Isn’t it a toss-up?
And yet, emotions lie in our hearts. We choose to let joy flow, instead of falling to our knees, because if there is a way to help, we will lend a hand, we will lend our hearts.
So, make the choice that befits your best interest. Then you will see…
Thank you for visiting today, and I wish you a good week! ❤️
As I began reading Leora’s Letters, the story of The Wilson Family by Joy Neal Kidney, it didn’t take me long to feel moved by the love, faith, and perseverance in this remarkable family. The tale begins with Leora and Clabe who were farmers in Perry, Iowa during WWII, but their story unfolded when one by one, their five sons enlisted, wanting to serve their country. During this period, the family stayed in touch by old fashioned letter writing initiated by Leora, and I felt honored to read the letters that were evidence of their solid family connection. But the intense silence was palpable during the times when Leora and Clabe waited for their sons to reply. I can only imagine the emotional turmoil.
The letters also reminded me of my parents’ story that commenced during WWII. They were engaged in 1942, then my dad was sent overseas. Handwritten letters were the glue that kept them connected for three years before Dad was honorably discharged in 1945. They were married soon after he arrived home. Theirs was a love that was everlasting, and February 24, 2012 would have been their sixty-seventh anniversary, but mom passed away on February 2nd. However, if not for the letters floating back and forth, their story may not have been written. So, there is something exceptional to be noted about old fashioned letter writing, but unfortunately, this intimate gesture has faded with conveniences of technology.
Leora’s Letters may be a personal diary of The Wilson’s, but it also serves as history, reminding us that those who sacrificed their lives in war should not be forgotten. I knew the premise before I started the book, but I wasn’t aware of the details. As I continued from one chapter to the next, I sensed a dreadful anticipation. As a parent, I can’t fathom how Leora and Clabe felt, not knowing the whereabouts or wellbeing of their sons. I became teary-eyed as the story progressed, and at one point, I considered putting the book down for good. The heartache was overwhelming. Though the sorrow never subsided, I’m glad that I made it to the end.
Joy is the daughter of Doris Wilson Neal and the oldest granddaughter of Leora and Clabe’s. She is the keeper of her family’s history, so through intensive research, she beautifully crafted this book with the help of Robin Grunder. I commend Joy and Robin for such a well written and moving account. And I am still moved by Leora’s strength and courage to greet each new day for decades later despite the magnitude of loss she endured. I highly recommend this book because it profoundly touches on love, family, resilience, faith, loss, and the desire to move forward.
I pulled this information from Joy’s blog, and I encourage you to visit her, allowing yourself to be swept up into the rich history that she shares.
Leora’s Letters: The Story of Love and Loss for an Iowa Family During World War II tells the story of the five Wilson brothers who are remembered on the Dallas County Freedom Rock® at Minburn, Iowa. Leora was their mother–Joy’s delightful grandmother.
Navymen Donald and Delbert Wilson. Pilots Dale, Danny, and Junior Wilson.
Joy the photobomber, so this was the day of the dedication, October 2019.
Joy has written many books on her family history, and they are available from Amazon.com in paperback, hardback, and ebook. Leora’s Dexter Stories and Leora’s Early Years are also in audio form, with “virtual voice.” I look forward to reading the rest of the series.
As always, thank you for stopping by, and I hope you’ll click on the image above to receive your copy of this most touching book. And please visit Joy if you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her, yet. ❤️
Can you believe that I’ve never written a limerick? Well, I felt inspired and had fun with these attempts. Some are witty, but a few are more serious. So, I hope you enjoy, and if I made you laugh or others resonated, let me know in the comments below. And remember, these are attempts, so go easy on me! 😃❤️
A teen Copper. He’s now a senior.
Copper
There once was a dog named Copper Who sported a nice set of choppers. He’d wiggle for treats. His favorite were meats. He’d be the best eager shopper!
Clouds
The clouds hang gloomy and gray Not making for a very fine day. But joy lives in hearts. Takes one thought to start invoking a warm, glowing ray!
Doe
There once was a beautiful doe. She didn’t know which way to go. Her hills were so dry, She wanted to cry, Still, some say change isn’t so!
Mallards
Mallards relax on the water Unaware of the human spotter. They find their mate, A temporary date, Then succumb to the steadfast stalker!
African Gray
The African Gray talks up a storm. His conversing is part of his norm. He’ll say “Good morning!” Flap his wings for soaring. He mimics and loves to perform!
Sam and Pam
She lives in a web and her name is Sam. She loves her twin sister whose name is Pam. Their conduct is friendly. They spin their silk gently. But they keep to their own, so scram!
She’s Smart
She’s smart but lacks self-confidence. She builds many walls and a fence. Prefers to stay home, Would rather not roam, Her way of thinking doesn’t make sense.
Women
Women’s bodies are a topic. Some thoughts are myopic. It is their choice. They have a voice. Their value is not microscopic!
Diagnosis
The diagnosis came September. Sad news I will remember. I had to adjust. Accepting, a must, Though pain like a burning ember!
Young Lab
There once was a friendly, young lab With energy delightfully fab. He loved belly rubs. Hated baths in the tub. He gave big, toothy smiles, never sad!
Bloom
Flowers delight in vivid bloom To adore through the month of June. Their colors so brilliant, Grown with resilience, Brings sneezes and a feeling of doom!
The tempest held its vigil on the horizon but continued to fool her. Devotion in his eyes mesmerized her whole being, awakened every pulse in her body. Eyes that spoke the language of love where their future glowed like an apricot dawn. She bestowed her heart permission to be swept into his pools of blue…
And yet, every day she anticipates the sting from his hand – the palm or back, makes no difference. The sting smarts like hell, but her heart secures the brunt of the damage. The slaps begin early each morning if she doesn’t move fast enough to appease his caffeine demands. And it’s ironic that he chose ‘chalet’ for his cell alarm because the calming tone contrasts to his horrific demeanor. After he walks through the front door following a day’s work, if she so much as smiles unknowingly to his disliking, his hand finds her cheek, and she feels the strike of skin even before impact. 5 p.m. on the mantel clock makes her heart pound as though trying to make a getaway.
They found their beautiful house together in a quiet neighborhood without sidewalks. Neighbors walk in the middle of the road, usually with leash in hand and their dogs beside them. Light traffic allows them to do this. Theirs is a ranch style with four bedrooms for their future children, he used to say. He told her that he couldn’t wait to be a father, which warmed her heart because becoming a mom in a year or two was her wish. A huge oak tree stands in the front yard covered in a lush lawn. Orange, yellow, and red marigolds decorate the walkway, and lavender hydrangeas and pink roses lean against the front of the house. But now the house that once was a home mirrors a prison. Cameras keep their eyes on her as he watches from his downtown office. Claustrophobia slithers down her spine. She struggles to quell the panic attacks. And her cell is meant only to reach him or to answer his calls. He tracks her like a wild animal. The ring on her finger stole all contact from the outside world – lost like a loved one’s passing. Grieving has no end, but she doesn’t dare misbehave because the pain is relentless.
She recalls the beautiful moments when his hands would send tingles from her neck down the map of her body. What did I do wrong? consumed her every thought when he transformed from loving husband to beast. Thoughts that became so tangled, she couldn’t ruminate until the truth stared her in the face. Her cheeks grew hot like asphalt in August from the realization that the monster had always existed.
Before the perfect couple whispered those two celebrated words on that breezy afternoon, signifying “You are my forever person,” he wore charm impeccably like a well-pressed dress shirt – his kisses intoxicating as jasmine, gentle like summer rain – respect enfolded in each embrace. Then donning satin and lace, the solitaire sparkled like her heart and soul, but true personas can take cover behind convincing eyes and smiles.
How could she have missed the signs? She ponders over and over.
Time – revelations, decisions, and strategies always take time. Her defense, submission, though she loathes appearing weak, and the agony tests her strength. But the path will wend its way, leading her to a door for a fresh start, caressing her bruised face and her body, his punching bag.
Gazing out the window, she watches courage whirl among the cottony clouds. Around the corner, freedom waits with intensity, as though motioning for her to come closer, excited for her new, safe beginning. She witnesses a glimpse of hope in the pink daisy pushing through the crack in the sidewalk.
But biding her time means life, and staying alive is her objective. She must bleed toughly. Resilience is her saving grace and not meant to be scattered on the floor, anymore. She must be smart to be free.
A collection of poems that speaks of nature’s healing touch, howlove shapes our lives, and the mysteries of life. Click on the image to purchase your copy. Thank you! 💚
I’ve done a lot of reflecting on the days building up to my recent 59th birthday (repeated a few times). 🙂 The quiet moments of contemplation were due to my health being challenged in the last year, but I’m not going to put you to sleep with pain-talk. You see, every new day is a precious gift, and birthdays are a chance to celebrate another year of life, so what better reason do we need?
There is no better reason, but I admit to feeling less than celebratory because of these changes my poor body has endured. These two health conditions are here to stay. I can’t bid them farewell, so I’m coming to terms with them, albeit a slow process. And even though things could be worse, it doesn’t negate what I’m experiencing – essentially, a new chapter in my book. Thus, my excitement to blow out the candles this go around felt contained instead of free. Are my feelings justified? Living with pain can be a downer. And I know that I’m at an age when health can change.
And yet, without a support circle to help keep my chin up, it would be much harder to focus on the good. And ‘the good’ is what keeps me moving forward! And moving forward is the best direction! I know there will be hiccups and hurdles but taking life ‘one day at a time’ never sounded so wise.
I chose to get an epidural which gave me the heebie-jeebies, but it finally kicked in, so I’m feeling better. Not 100%, but better enough to do some walking and smiling on my special day. The celebration spanned over four days of sipping Chardonnay, indulging in delicious food, and receiving wonderful gifts. I reveled in the joy of blowing out the candles on the carrot cake (my favorite)! Part of the fun was when my hubby, son, and I strolled around a local, charming beach town. My daughter and son-in-law celebrated from Tennessee! She and I recently had one of our iconic phone chats where even we broke our own record – we talked for 5 hours! It was awesome! Anyway, back to the beach, I was grateful for this pain-free day. It felt good to ‘feel good.’ 🙏
It was lovely to see a touch of spring. Flowers from hubby. YUM!!!
We enjoyed a sinfully delicious dinner that night, and afterwards, we took a drive that lead us to a beautiful spot for taking in the lights and the stunning moon. My hubby gets credit for the last shot.
And now a slight detour, if you missed my previous post about my interview on Spillwords Press, and you’d like to check it out, the link is: https://spillwords.com/spotlight-on-writers-lauren-scott/. It was an honor to be chosen to participate in their series: Spotlight on Writers. Feel free to give it a ❤️ or to leave a comment. I’d be grateful if you would! 🤗🙏
So, Cheers to celebrating life, one day at a time, and to relishing in the blessings and beautiful beginnings that birthdays offer! 🎉🙏
Thanks SO much for stopping by, and I truly wish you all good health. ~Lauren 💝
I am thrilled to be featured on Spillwords Press as part of their ‘Spotlight on Writers’ Series and my interview is live right now! Thanks so much to Dagmara and her team for offering this amazing opportunity. It’s a wonderful feeling to be recognized and to have a platform such as Spillwords to showcase my poetry. I am truly honored and grateful! And now for a peek at the interview beginning with Question #1:
Where do you hail from?
I was born in Palo Alto located in Northern California. But since my parents shared an excitement for moving, when I was two years old, we relocated to Cypress in the southern part of the state. The neighborhood where I began kindergarten evokes memories of playing with tadpoles and a frog the size of a football that I named Sam. When I was eight years old, we moved to Anaheim with Disneyland in our backyard. Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and the rest of his cohorts became friends. I met a girl who lived around the block, and our friendship remains to this day. She and I spent most of our time in the magic kingdom when ticket books existed, and e-ticket rides were the best! Three years later, my parents packed up the house again, but this time, traveled across state lines to New Mexico. We lived in a beautiful brick house where wintertime brought snow for our brown and white springer spaniel to romp around in. But after four years, back to Southern California we headed. Moving frequently in my childhood was difficult – changing schools, leaving old friends, and making new friends. But my parents had their reasons, so I didn’t harbor any resentment toward them. Fullerton became my high school home, and the last one before I moved out on my own. Who knew that in the future, I’d find my way back to the northern part of the state with my husband and children.
If your interest is piqued and you’d like to read the full interview, click here and you will gently be carried over to Spillwords. Or you can simply click on the Spillwords image below. And if you would be so kind to give me a friendly ❤️ while you’re over there, you won’t need an account. But if you’d like to leave a comment, you will need to log in, and of course, I’d love to read your thoughts! Either way, if you cheer me on, I’ll greatly appreciate it! 🙏
Voted Author of the Month for May 2023
Thank you so much for stopping by, and please know that I appreciate you! 🙏🩷
A collection of poems that speaks of nature’s healing touch, howlove shapes our lives, and the mysteries of life. Click on the image to purchase your copy. Thank you! 💚
Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author & Poet 